


Wings of Freedom

by echoingsentiment (doeeerie)



Series: Beauty of Freedom [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, College AU, Death, Fluff, Happy Ending, Humor, M/M, Multi, like not main character death tho, ships galore, so like minor character death, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-28
Updated: 2014-06-28
Packaged: 2018-02-06 15:22:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1862766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doeeerie/pseuds/echoingsentiment
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world where your soul mates name is on your right wrist, not having a name there sort of really sucks. But what sucks more is when your great great grandmothers’ spirit has taken a stake in your love life. But see, that’s not the point. The point of the matter is that college, hormones, and meddling spirits were really hard to manage all at once. Not to mention rebels and political upheaval. But none of that compared though. What made things really difficult was, during all of that, I was falling in love, and that? That was the hardest part.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wings of Freedom

Being alone in a world where the person you fell in love with was predetermined by a name on your wrist sort of sucked. It sucked even more if you didn’t actually have a name on your wrist and were born as a Blank Slate. Or, well, that’s what everyone called it. 

See, about 300 years ago, the world was blessed with a “gift from the gods”. Supposedly the story went that a young woman who was terribly lonely and suicidal prayed to the gods one last time for a way to predict the future and see if she would ever be with anyone . She said, "If I’m going to be lonely for the rest of my life, then I’m just going to kill myself." Jackass move if you ask me, but that’s just me. Well, long story short, the gods blessed the woman with the power to inscribe, upon the right inner wrist, the name of who your soul mate was.

She then found out that she was indeed going to find someone, and that they would be happy for many, many years later. Soon, news of her newfound power spread, and, because she was smart, she knew how to use the power to show other people the same courtesy the gods had given her. So, soon after, people lined up to see whose name would pop up on their wrist.

Now see, the first time she tried, she didn’t think it worked; she didn’t see any name. But, evidently, that was the point. Only the person the wrist belonged to could see the name until they met their soul mate. Then the names would become visible to everyone else. In a sort of cool-we-got-each-other's-names-tattooed-on-our wrists-except-we-know-we-won’t-need-it-removed-because-we’re-soul-mates kind of shit. Everyone raved about it, it was so great.

People flocked to the woman to see if they were marrying the right person. During this time a young man came to her and gave her a name. Now the name didn’t match the name on her wrist, but when she used her power to show him his future soul mate, her name popped up. Turns out he was using a middle name and testing the power. He soon revealed that he was a scientist who was a bit skeptical. They hit it off like no other, and both wanted to use the power for good to spread love. 

Flash forward a few years and they found a way to channel the power into a shot. Why needles had to be involved no one knew, but I mean, he was a scientist so, you know, give him a break. Before long, everyone in the world was given this shot. What they didn’t know was that, once the someone got the shot, it transferred to children, and to their children, and their children’s children. Turns out that the shot, once injected, was somehow infused into the chromosomes and recognized as some sort of gene. Or something like that, I'm no good at biology. 

Anyways, before long it was just normal for people to have a name on their wrist. And the old woman that first had the power was forgotten and lived out a long and happy life with her husband. But there was a problem with the power. It seemed to have a fault. Sometimes, children would be born without names. It took a while to figure it out, but when everyone was talking and teaching about the names and the history behind it, a few kids would confusedly say things like, “Well I don’t have a name on my wrist, what’s that mean?”

Well, it came to be known as being a defect. It meant that something was flawed. It meant that the child would maybe never find their soulmate and live alone forever. Now, of course there were tons of suicides, but eventually a new group of people who were dubbed as the "Blank Slates" started to join together to form their own ideas. 

So flash forward 300 years, and Blank Slates are still treated differently, like defaults. But see, that’s where things were wrong. How do I know? Because I’m the old woman that was first granted the power. When I died, I got to be turned into a lesser god of love, and my husband got turned into a seer. We can see into the future and the past to help lovers from past lives reunite. So see, Blank Slates aren’t actually bad; it just means that in the past, your soul mate died before you could be together, and so you died not knowing who it was, which meant that it didn’t carry over into the new life. Basically, the Blank Slates were the wings of freedom to love. But, of course, humans are faulty and completely took it into the wrong direction. Well, not like I can change things. But see, this story isn’t about me. 

This story is about two boys who changed the world with their love. And you’re probably wondering why that matters to me so much. Well, let me tell you something. My little Jean was born to be a star. See, I’m his great great grandmother. And let me tell you, my little Jean Kirstein was always meant to be a big player. Now, of course, that’s not to say all his friends weren’t big players too, they were. However, Jean brought them together. Of course, it’s totally because he takes after me. But that’s not the point; the point is that this is their story. Not mine. 

I just kind of… pushed here and there to get them in the right direction.

* * *

In a world where your soul mates name is on your right wrist, not having a name there sort of really sucks. But what sucks more is when your great great grandmothers’ spirit has taken a stake in your love life. But see, that’s not the point. The point of the matter is that college, hormones, and meddling spirits were really hard to manage all at once. Not to mention rebels and political upheaval. But none of that compared though. What made things really difficult was, during all of that, I was falling in love, and that? That was the hardest part. 

I guess I should rewind a bit. Or well a lot.

* * *

I was used to being alone. See, I was born without a name on my right wrist, which meant I was destined to be alone forever. Of course I later found out that that was far from the truth, but from birth, everyone treated me differently. They always sort of side-stepped around the fact that I was born without a name slapped onto my wrist. My friends? They were sort of non-existent. But when you first find out that you don’t have a name on your wrist and bring it up, everything sort of changes. Everyone starts looking at you differently.

Like you’re faulty.

Like you have something wrong with you.

Like you're something to be pitied. 

No matter how many times my mom and sister said things like, “Oh, don’t worry, I’m sure someone out there is a Blank Slate just like you!” It never helped. In the small town we lived in, no one else was a blank slate. We lived in the upscale part of a small area inside Maria. We were pretty well off, dad made a shit ton of money, and mom worked as a designer. My sister? She was the person I was closest to. Until the day that changed my life forever.

See, she spent most of her time with me when I was younger. She was three years older than me, but she always hung out with me and took care of me. She would always say, over and over, “I won't find my soul mate until you find yours!” Which was in a way really encouraging, until she started working as a barista at a nearby Starbucks. A couple weeks in, I caught her covering up her wrist in make-up. I knew what was going on. I had just graduated high school and was still debating about where to go college. That’s when I started avoiding her.

And that's also when I started doing google searches for colleges in big towns away from mine.

That’s how I found out about the largest college in Trost. Trost was a three hour drive from where my family and I lived. And at the largest college in Trost, they had a pretty good mission statement.

* * *

“Are you sure you are okay with moving away like this?” 

There was a large thump as another heavy cardboard box hit the floor of the new one-bedroom apartment that I had gotten. My sister, who’d been carrying the box, wiped at her forehead, cringing at the uncomfortable feel of sweat now coating her fingers. There was another loud thump and a groan as I stretched and my back popped. I sighed for a minute looking around at the now full of cardboard boxes apartment. 

“I’m moving away because I’m tired of everyone treating me like a lost cause. It gets annoying as fuck and I needed some time away.”

My sister shrugged and plopped down on the nearby couch that we’d taken up hours before. 

“Still, you moved a full three hours away from home. Mom is really distressed. She thinks it’s her fault that you decided you wanted to move away. She thinks she’s been pressuring you too much.”

I shrugged leaning against the countertop that separated my living room from my kitchen. It wasn’t that my mom was pressuring me too much, it was just the town. My family lived in a town where every single person had a name on their wrist and, of course, I was the only one that was a Blank Slate. Everyone there thought the names were great and wanted to keep them. I, on the other hand, was ready to fucking burst if one more person told me I just needed to wait it out.

“It’s not her. It’s that place,” I paused and shook my head. “I’m so tired of everyone being so happy about having a name on their wrist. There’s no one fighting what everyone says about the names. I just needed a clean slate, a place where the people aren’t all following what history says.”

My sister looked down and sighed. I knew how she felt: responsible. She was the one born with a name on her wrist, not me. She was the one with a chance of love, not me. Even though she was my closest friend, she knew sometimes I resented her.

“Jean, I…” I watched her eyes land on her wrist. “I wish it was me. I wish that you weren’t the one that—“

“Don’t Amelia. Please don’t.” 

I cut her off and watched her eyes widen and then her soft, sad nod. I felt guilty, but I didn’t want to hear it. I didn’t want her to know that her recent discovery had caused me to solidify my resolve to move away from our small town in Maria. A couple months ago, she’d met him. His name was Christian, and he was a really nice guy. He was perfect for her. Within two weeks of meeting up with each other, the names on their wrists appeared for all to see that they were it for each other. That’s when I caught her covering up her wrist with make-up. Eventually she came clean.

The day she came home and introduced him to everyone was the day I bought the apartment. I couldn’t take looking at the way both their wrists had each other’s names in black across them. Before, she had told me that she wouldn’t dare find her soul mate until I met mine. The night she introduced him, she tried to apologize, but I wouldn’t let her.

“Jean, really I just—“

“Please Amelia, I don’t want to hear it. You have Christian, its fine. I’ll be fine, can you just…can you just leave me here? I’ll get the rest myself.”

I didn’t mean to upset her, but I knew I had with the way she flinched back after I spoke. She nodded and then went to the door. She turned as if she needed to say something, looking at me desperately. She opened her mouth, but then closed it and nodded. I watched her walk out, shutting the door behind her. The sigh I let out of my mouth should have hurt more than it did, but of course I was desensitized to most hurt by now. That’s, at least, what I told myself as I dug into the cooler I’d brought and pulled out the whiskey. I found the box labeled dishes and pulled out the first wrapped shot glass I found. 

Three shots later I decided it was time to get the rest of my things out of my truck. It took me another four trips before I was able to successfully say that I’d gotten everything into my new apartment. The door clicked shut as I dropped the last box onto the floor, shutting the door behind me. I stretched my back, which popped loudly as I did so. Overall, the apartment didn’t look half bad. I just needed to do a lot of unpacking. 

“Well Jean, you did it. You’ve moved out on your own, and are now attending a college other than the shit one you were at in Sina. How do you feel about yourself?”

I sighed, and ran a hand through my hair with a groan. 

Shit. I feel like shit. 

Despite my lack of a good mood, I continued to unpack. When I was finally done, a check of time on my phone indicated that it was 8:30. The sky outside my windows was dark. I knew I had nothing in the fridge; I hadn’t had time to go to the grocery store. Time to call in delivery. I plopped down on the couch and opened up my laptop. Luckily I’d set everything up before I’d moved in. TV, Internet, Phone, everything was already set up and running.

I pulled up the internet browser and searched a simple ‘Delivery Places in Trost’. There was a long list of places that delivered and I pondered on what to get. After deciding I’d need something to last a few days till I could make a trip to the grocer, I called up the local pizza shop. 45 minutes later and there was a large combination pizza, minus the onions, on top of the coffee table in the living room. I opened up a beer and casually munched on pizza, scrolling through the website to my new college.

My family was originally from Trost, but after the appearance of the rebellion group that became known as the Survey Corps, my family moved to a small town in Maria, leaving me with few memories of Trost. However, in Maria, the religion surrounding the mystery of the names on wrists made me pretty uncomfortable. In Rose, -the main name that referred to Trost and several other towns- the Survey Corps had a strong presence, which made me feel much better. Before my time, hundreds of years ago, a religion based on the names on our wrists became known as “Titan” since the gift was supposedly a gift from the “Titan Gods” or something. The group appeared and claimed that the names on the inside of wrists were their doing. A religion based around their speeches became popular. 

Eventually people rebelled, creating a group called the Survey Corps made of those who refused the idea that a soul mate was predetermined. The members of this group believed that love should be something of freedom, not predetermined by a name on your wrist. This was something I related too very much. Being a Blank Slate, I couldn't help but feel connected to those that were part of the Survey Corps, those that rejected the idea that love was predetermined. There were many in the Survey Corps that were Blank Slates.

That was part of the reason I had chosen to come back to Trost. The largest college in Rose was praised for its ability to let the students think for themselves. The mission statement on the website was what drew many to the college, even those that were a part of the “Titan” religion.

_We believe that every mind should explore any questions it has, and that is why we support both believers and rebels to find their own paths._

I stared at the statement again, taking another swig of beer. I was allowed to question things here; I was allowed to search for a reason to why I was a Blank Slate. Here, I could even possibly find an answer, and if not, I’d be at least a step closer to closure of why I was destined to be alone. I yawned, eyes locking onto the time in the right corner of the laptop. It was past ten, I’d been so engrossed in looking over the website and lost in thought that I’d lost track of time. Closing the laptop, chugging the rest of the beer, and putting the pizza up, I started to think about what to do. 

Debating on taking a shower, I finally decided to just jump in bed and shower in the morning. It would probably help the half hangover I might have in the morning. Glancing at my empty wrist for a moment, my heart clenched uncomfortably. I wasn’t sure how the next day would go; hell I wasn’t sure how anything would go. Instead of dwelling I shook my head, turning out the light and curling into bed. Tomorrow there would classes that would test everything I knew about life. Tomorrow would be the start of my journey to finding why I was a blank slate. I was nervous, but there was still excitement.

Tomorrow I would find my way towards answers.

* * *

There was a muttering throughout the crowd of people as a group of figures appeared on the stage that had previously been empty. Nervous as hell, I looked closer at the group, finding that quite a few of them had tattoos over their left wrist. The wings of freedom, the tattoo all the members of the Survey Corps have to prove they wanted to be free to love whomever they chose. There were murmurs throughout the crowd, some of the new students accusing the school of trying to recruit members to the rebellion group. It was stupid. I knew it wasn’t true, and these people were just paranoid. Of course that would be their first thoughts.

There was a loud cough from one of the men on stage. He was bald and his gaze was unrelenting and, quite frankly, he seemed harsh. Everyone stopped talking and the silence was almost uncomfortable. The bald guy stood in front of the microphone on the stage and glared at the crowd until there was nothing more than the soft shifting of feet on the floor. He was really intimidating. After another cough he began to speak.

“Welcome. You are all here for some reason or another, but I’m sure it has something to do with the mission statement of our college. ‘We believe that every mind should explore any questions it has, and that is why we support both believers and rebels to find their own paths.’ Many of our teachers are members of the Survey Corps. Others are members are dedicated to the religion surrounding the legends of the titan magic. You are our 104th group of young minds to enter into this college. I expect only greatness out of you. There will be no push to join either the religion or the Corps throughout your time here. Until then, it is my job to make sure you are trained to be open minds, free from judgment and prejudice. This concludes my speech; continue to your classes. I expect great things from you.”

Well that was kind of a shitty opening, but I was still excited. Here I was going to find my answers. The crowd murmured about how they weren’t sure if that was all there was to be said, but as the groups of teachers walked off the stage, the first bell rang and everyone started to their first classes. 

“Well let’s see, first class is an introductory class. Have to take it in the first semester. And of course the only time that would work with my schedule is right now. Ugh, way too fucking early,” I grumbled as I made my way through the crowd. First class was about introducing history and things regarding the religion that came from the rumors of the Titan Gods. Fucking annoying. But at least maybe I’d find out why people were born as a blank slate.

I was, however, pretty excited, so I tried to blow it off by calmly walking there and acting indifferent. But because of that, when I finally got there, the room was mostly full. There was only one seat left, next to some dude that looked pissed off. He was practically yelling at his two friends. His voice pissed me off, but I couldn’t help but overhear.

“I’m going to ask about it. This is the class to do it in. I'm going to ask about what happened that day and why it happened to us.” 

His whole tone and stature pissed me off in general, but I was curious. Even though eavesdropping wasn’t really my style, I couldn’t help but listen to the harsh conversation this dude was having with his blonde and black haired friends. The blonde behind him shook his head.

“Eren you can’t, no one else needs to be reminded of what happened in Shiganshina. There might be other people sensitive to the issue.”

“I don’t care Armin, I’m asking. I deserve to know.”

“Eren, Armin has a point.”

The girl beside him has a blank look on her face as she stares at the guy who I now know is Eren. He scowls at her and brandishes a fist. For some reason I want to kick his ass. How dare he raise his hands to a girl who happens to be amazingly beautiful? What an asshole. Still Eren continued to rant and rave.

“I don’t care Mikasa, I’m asking. I have the right to ask and find out why our parents had to die. Why all of our parents had to die because of that day. We deserve an answer.”

Before he could continue his rant the class grew silent at the loud, weirdly familiar cough of the professor at the head of the class. I was too engrossed in the conversation to notice him come in. It was the same man from the speech during the introductory assembly. He looked pissed off as everyone got quiet. The glare made everyone uncomfortable, I was well aware of the power that he had over just one room. Of course, while I was admiring his power, I noticed the tattoo on his inner right wrist. It was the wings of freedom, the sign of the Corps. A pair of tiny wings, one black and one blue. It was the sign of freedom. Instantly I was ready to hear what he had to say.

“Alright I’m going to take roll. And then I’ll answer the questions you are all teeming to find the answers too. My name is Keith Shadis, but you can call me sir. I don’t like stupid questions, and I don’t like stupid answers. This class is your introductory class to everything to do with this college. I won’t tolerate eating in my class,” A girl up front squeaks and hides something that vaguely sounds like the crinkle of a bag of potato chips, “I won’t tolerate stupidity. I won’t tolerate a lot of things, so listen up, shut up, and don’t act ridiculously stupid so I don’t have to want to kill you.”

He takes roll quickly and efficiently. The girl up front that hid the potato chips was named Sasha. The three that I’d been eavesdropping on were called and each one of them reacted differently. The girl, Mikasa, seemed so elegant in the way she answered that I found myself entranced. I had to quickly look away trying to gather my head. Eventually he was done calling role, and everyone was itching with asking questions. 

That jackass’ hand was the first to go up. 

“Eren Yeager, speak.”

Eren’s gaze grew dark and he lowered his hand.

“Why did the group of religious members that followed the titan theory murder all those people in Shiganshina? Why was my mother shot down by a member as I was pulled away by the police who were just standing-by? Why did all of Shiganshina have to be burnt to the ground?”

The blonde, Armin, nudged Eren with his elbow, signaling him to stop talking. 

I was a little shocked by the severity of the question. To think that those three people were part of that horrible incident was unbelieveable. The class grew dead silent. Years ago there was a religious section that invaded all of Shiganshina. They shot and killed many of its inhabitants. They burnt the town to the ground. Later the current leader of the religious group apologized, saying that the people were out of their minds with disease. They were taken to hospitals. Supposedly there’s a conspiracy theory that said they just changed their names and appearance and were put back into the world. There were only a few survivors. And noting from the pale look on Armin’s face, the blank look on Mikasa’s, and the anger on Eren’s? Everyone knew that they were survivors, but their families were not. 

Shadis stared on for a moment, and then answered.

“That is for you to find out on your own. I can’t answer for you, but I can say it’s because on that day a large amount of Survey Corps were there. That’s all I’ll say.”

There was murmuring from other students that was quickly silenced with a glare. Eren seemed pissed, but slightly calm. From the other side of the room another hand raises. Shadis glanced over and then read aloud a name.

“Marco Bott, speak.”

Everyone’s eyes are on the boy as he speaks, of course they would be after such a serious question. I noticed that he looked at his wrist before speaking. It takes him a few seconds to take a deep breath, but when he speaks there is no waiver to his voice; it was smooth and calm. 

“Why are there people that are born as Blank Slates?”

My heart stopped. The class erupted in murmurs. A few people were looking straight at Marco, who hadn’t flinched under their stares. I knew, deep in my heart, that it was taking everything in the other not to tell everyone to fuck off. I knew because of the way his fingers tightly wound together to form fists. But all I could think about was how I’d found someone. I’d found someone else that was a Blank Slate. Someone else knew how I felt. Someone else had been through what I had. I was almost so absorbed in wanting to know more about Marco that I almost missed the answer Shadis gave.

”I cannot tell you the answer to that. I don’t know myself. But I can tell you how I feel. Freedom is what a blank slate means. Freedom to love who you want without it being predetermined by some decision made by someone or something you don’t know. A blank wrist is what gives you the ultimate control of your life. Be proud to wear it, because you are a true symbol of freedom.”

There were more whispers throughout the crowd but I wasn’t paying attention. I only stared at Marco who was staring at his wrist in anger. The crowd continued to ask questions, but I didn’t pay attention. I kept staring back at the boy who’d spoken. He had dark hair, a lot like Mikasa's, and there was a smattering of freckles on the back of his neck that disappeared behind his collar. Marco Bott, the boy with the Blank Slate. The boy that knew all of the pain that I had been through. I barely noticed when class was over until everyone was getting up to leave. I had grabbed my stuff in a flash and tried to follow after Marco. 

But he was already gone by the time I reached the doorway. 

My heart was crushed, and I was so disappointed. In my anger I threw a fist at the wall beside me and cursed loudly. I earned a few stares but I was so pissed off that I just glared and everyone scrambled. I was so pissed off. I only wanted a chance to talk to him. I only wanted a chance to see what someone else thought being like a blank slate was. How would it be to talk to someone else that felt alone, lonely, without attachments? Like a problem?

By the time I finally drug myself into my next class I found myself looking around the new room, begging for Marco to be there. But just my luck he wasn’t. I was fucking cursed. Things had been predetermined that I would never ever find Marco again. I knew I would see him again tomorrow in my first class, but I needed to find him now. I needed to find him and ask him what it was like. I needed to know if he felt like I did.

I was pissed, so I wasn’t really paying attention to roll, until I heard his name. 

“Marco Bott?”

My heart sped up again, and I frantically searched the room. Despite his name being on the roster, Marco wasn’t in the class. I looked around again as the teacher called his name again.

“Marco Bott?”

My heart was hammering. Please answer. Please answer. Please answer. 

No one did. 

The teacher moved on to the next name, eventually calling mine. I don’t remember the last time I’d been this disappointed. I ended up taking notes and trying to distract myself from the fact I was so fucking disappointed I couldn’t talk to someone else like me. About thirty minutes into the lecture, I heard the door open. I ignored it, finishing off my notes when the teacher called on the new presence in the room.

“Can I get your name?”

“Marco Bott.”

My heart literally stopped. 

I looked at the door and found that there again was the boy from before, only this time sporting a busted lip and a bruise under his eye. He was hurt.

“Next time try to be on time.”

I wanted to shoot the woman teaching. She didn’t even notice that he was hurt. Or maybe she did and didn’t think it was fresh. I had to rationalize her reaction to calm down. I watched him while everyone else returned to taking notes. He looked around as he found a seat to sit in. I was begging whatever gods there were for him to sit next to me. But that would never ever happen.

Until it did.

Oh god, Jean, what are you going to do? 

I watched him sit down next to him and pull out his notebook. Marco started taking notes, and I found myself staring. My words were caught in my throat, every inch of me was craving to know more about him, but I was lost in fear. 

Until the most embarrassing thing ever happened.

“Jean Kirstein, please pay attention!”

Everyone stared at me in that instant and I could feel my face go red. I quickly turned back towards my notes, but I noticed Marco look at me before turning back to his notes. I of course had to return to taking notes but I couldn’t focus. Everything was too new, too heavy, and my words were stuck. I had to know about Marco before I could really focus. 

I snapped out of my panic when people started getting up to leave again. I panicked as I looked over to find that Marco had already stood and started away. My words seriously needed to form, like, now.

“Marco!”

Surprisingly I said his name, though I don’t actually remember speaking it. However he turned around and looked at me. I waved and took a deep breath as my mouth goes dry and I walk over to him. Marco smiled at me, a great large welcoming smile and I felt my fears melt away.

“You’re Jean, right? You were distracted taking notes and the teacher called on you. What’s up?”

I was quiet for a while, embarrassed as the seconds passed. But Marco never seemed to get upset with how much time it was taking to form words. I didn’t know what to say, but finally I blurted it out.

“You’re a Blank Slate right? That’s what you implied when you were talking earlier.” 

Marco’s eyes grew dark as he stiffened and glared at me. His fingers were tense around his backpack handles and he’s on edge. I suddenly knew that we really were more alike than I thought. 

“Why do you wanna know? Are you going to try and beat me up like those other assholes? I’ll have you know I can hold my own no matter how strong you think you are. I’m not a pushover.” 

I was taken aback. I shook my head quickly and tried to find my words. 

“No! No, uh… I’m… I’m a Blank Slate too.”

There was a moment of silence between us as Marco suddenly brightened up and everything sort of calmed down. My posture eased and I rubbed at my arm awkwardly. Marco is silent for a bit, and it seems like a lifetime before he speaks. Finally, Marco smiled at me and I watched as his smile lit up his eyes. He had a sprinkle of freckles over his cheeks and nose, and I found myself smiling too. 

“I’m Marco.” He paused and held out his hand. “I’m a Blank Slate.” 

I shook his hand and smiled, letting out a sigh I didn’t know I was holding in. 

“I’m Jean. I’m a Blank Slate too.” 

Eventually our smiles grew until we were both laughing. The teacher eventually kicked us into the hallway, but I was okay with that. Marco and I were already talking about all sorts of things. I had finally found someone that was like me. I was finally able to connect with someone. This, this was my chance to have a friend finally. And I wasn’t going to screw it up.

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhh okay so I totally started my Beauty Of Freedom series.
> 
> I already announced all my hiatus for my homestuck fanfiction, because I wanted to focus on what I had inspiration for, which is this!
> 
> Huge thanks to tumblr user [timidvindicator](http://www.timidvindicator.tumblr.com) my editor for this fic.
> 
> You can find Marco's POV [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1862883/chapters/4009995).
> 
> The tag for this on tumblr will be fic: beauty of freedom.


End file.
